


i can hear you, i'm afraid to be near you

by paperweighted



Category: Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food mention, M/M, Mutual Pining, alcohol mention, brad being brad which is to say he is emotionally repressed, food as a love language tbh, gay people, gay people except their individual reservations complicate their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperweighted/pseuds/paperweighted
Summary: David meets Brad's family. Brad tries to open up more.
Relationships: Brad Bakshi & David Brittlesbee, Brad Bakshi/David Brittlesbee
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	i can hear you, i'm afraid to be near you

_ And I would say I love you _

_ But saying it out loud is hard _

_ So I won't say it at all _

_ And I won't stay very long _

_ But you are the life I needed all along _

_ And words are futile devices _

“I just want to tell you about a few things before we get there,” Brad says, gaze unmoving from the windshield in front of him. He rolls his open palm absentmindedly against the steering wheel as if trying to wipe away sweat, but both he and David know that his hands are always cold and dry. 

It’s only 5:30 in the evening, but the small winter sun sets behind them as they drive down the highway. David intermittently glances over to the passenger side mirror to take note of the oranges and pinks that settle gently over the horizon. He thinks of the times that he’s brought Brad to watch the sunset from the roof of the office building on the days that they have to stay a few hours late. Brad likes the way that David appreciates the little things. 

“Hmm?” David hums, raising his eyebrows and giving his attention to Brad in the driver’s seat. He regards him tentatively - this thing between them is still relatively new and he can’t help but get nervous when he’s with Brad. Not nervous in a bad way, not at all; he just isn’t quite used to being in his company outside of a work setting, when Brad finally sheds his hard exterior and opens up just a little bit. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. Brad has to admit that it isn’t easy on him either, letting his guard down, letting someone into his life. It’s only been a month since he and David had become something more than merely an “arrangement” void of any emotional attachment. And before he knows it, against his better judgement, Brad is driving David to his family Christmas party at his childhood home - a scenario that he honestly never would have expected and even now, he’s semi-dreading it. He tries not to show it. He tries to stay still, keep his eyes forward, speak without a waver in his voice - all things he was taught by his father as a child that he carried into adulthood whether he liked it or not. He hoped David couldn’t see past the facade. He hoped David couldn’t tell that this meant the world to him.

“I said I need to tell you about some things. Before we get there.” 

Brad tells David about his extensive family for maybe the tenth time since two weeks ago when he had first invited David to the gathering (when he asked, his hands were shaking and his stomach was in knots. David was too elated to notice or care). He knows it’s not something David is used to, being around a big family like his - or being around a family at all, really - and he’s worried that David might get overwhelmed quickly. David insists, also for the tenth time since two weeks ago, that while he  _ is _ a bit nervous, he’s excited to meet Brad’s family. He really is. 

“Okay, you say that now, but I worry about you sometimes. And just so you know,” a decades-old wound framed as an afterthought, “my dad isn’t going to be there. Um. He left when I was-”

“When you were thirteen. You’ve told me,” David reminds Brad, gently. “Brad, relax. It’s going to be fine.” 

But Brad’s shoulders aren’t any less tense.

...

They stand at the front door, David holding a large plate of cookies he had made in earnest earlier in the day. It’s a small house situated in a suburb of more small houses, the street cracked and uneven and filled with potholes, each telephone wire adorned by a different pair of sneakers. The neighborhood reminds David of where he grew up, that old run-down apartment complex that still houses all those latchkey kids. The cacophony of a large family celebrating the holiday can be heard just inside. Waiting for Brad to gather the courage to ring the doorbell, David balances his plate in the crook of one arm and hesitantly smooths the lapel of Brad’s coat with his free hand, eliciting the very beginning of an eye roll before Brad stops himself and gives David what’s supposed to be a closed-mouth smile (it resembles more of a grimace, but David appreciates the effort either way). The door swings open, and they turn their heads from each other to see Brad’s mother, eyes aglow at the sight of her son and his date for the evening. She’s a small woman and she looks quite young for being in her mid-60’s, the only indication of her age being a few deep creases at the corners of her dark eyes and a touch of grey at her temples. 

“Oh, my goodness - come in, come in! It’s so cold out!” Her thick accent is hard to miss. She ushers them inside, taking their jackets despite Brad’s insistence that he’s a grown man who can hang up his own coat. He silently takes the plate of cookies from David, already knowing what’s coming.

“You must be David! It’s so wonderful to meet you.” Before David has time to respond, she crushes him in a hug and reaches up to kiss each of his cheeks. She smells good, like… like home, is the only way David can think to describe it. 

“It’s nice to meet you too! Thank you so much for inviting me into your home. I’ve really been looking forward to meeting you.” A bit of a weight off his shoulders as he responds with a script he’s been anxiously rehearsing in his head for fourteen days. He truly means every word. 

She smiles and pats David’s cheek, then turns to Brad, taking the plate of cookies while they exchange a string of sentences in Polish. David, who has been trying to learn the language for about a month now through an app on his phone, various videos from around the Internet, and a modest stack of flashcards that he flips through during his lunch breaks, feels proud that he can pick up on a few phrases: “he’s handsome”, “nice smile”, ”so sweet”. And from Brad: “I know.” “I know.” “He is.”

She leads them through the house, providing a quick tour. She sets the plate down on a counter in the kitchen where it all but disappears among a million other dishes in different ceramic containers from different homes, each recipe crafted with as much deliberation and love as the last. The whole house is warm, the lighting a soft amber. There are people everywhere, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, all smiles, and David catches himself smiling with them. 

After many hugs and heartfelt introductions, David finds himself seated next to Brad on a couch, quietly listening to the conversation being held in the room. After a little while, Brad turns to him, placing a hand on his knee. 

“Hey, I’m gonna grab a drink. Do you want another?” He points to the beer that David has been nursing, the label almost completely picked off by now. David shakes his head. 

“I’m all set. Thank you.”   
  


“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Brad uses David’s knee to push himself up off the couch (or rather, he stands up while keeping his hand on David’s knee, because even though he’s only walking ten steps to the kitchen, he wants to linger as long as possible). David watches reverently as Brad walks away, silently loving everything about him for the millionth time over. Suddenly, there’s a chorus of _Hey!_ s and _Brad!_ s as he’s roped into a conversation with a handful of people who David recognizes to be a few of Brad’s cousins. Someone tells a joke, and David sees Brad’s eyes and nose crinkle as his head falls back with laughter. David doesn’t mind this, sitting, observing quietly - in fact, it makes his heart swell to see Brad interacting with his family like this, so David continues to sit and watch and smile and pick the rest of the label off of his beer. 

After a moment or two, Brad thinks to look over at David, and decides that he doesn’t like how he looks sitting all by himself. He turns back to his cousins. 

“Hey, I’ll be just a second,” he says, and walks back towards David, taking his hand and leading him over to the circle - there’s a gap just big enough to fit them both. 

“David!”

“Hey, David!”

“What’s up, buddy?”

David issues a lopsided but genuine grin and a general “hi” to everyone. If he was content before, he’s ecstatic now - everyone here is so nice to him. 

“So, David, what’s it like working with Brad? Must be a pain in the ass, I bet,” one of them jokes. Brad rolls his eyes playfully. 

“Oh, absolutely. He’s terrible. I actually put in my two weeks and I’m just running out the clock at this point,” David deadpans, earning a laugh from the whole group - Brad included. David looks to Brad, grinning with eyebrows raised as if to say  _ hey! I think they like me!  _ Brad offers a broad smile, raising his own eyebrows in response:  _ Of course they do! They love you! Who wouldn’t? _

One of Brad’s cousins reaches out and musses Brad’s hair, an exercise in restraint for David, whose second favorite part of every Saturday morning is rearranging Brad’s disheveled curls into something more presentable (his first favorite part of Saturday mornings happens before that, when he watches Brad sip his coffee, bedhead still intact). 

They all talk for a while, David’s face beginning to ache from smiling so much. He doesn’t interject often, but each time he does he’s met with nothing but acceptance. They let him in on their jokes and tell him stories about growing up with Brad. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he feels like he finally belongs. He’d say he feels like he’s finally part of a family. 

“...and so we would always be here in the summers while our parents were working,” One of the cousins, who David remembers is named Ania, explains. “I always thought Brad had the coolest room. We played in the street all day, but we always stayed up super late just talking and talking for hours - he had this really cool lava lamp - Brad, do you still have that? Anyways, I miss it all. Simpler times, I guess!” She laughs.

“Wow. That sounds… I didn’t have any siblings or cousins growing up, so that sounds really nice.” David turns to Brad. “Oh, hey, do I get to see your room?” 

“Ha-ha,” he intones, giving David a look that says  _ I’ll open up, but I am never going to open up to you like that.  _

_ Actually, ask me one more time.  _

“No, seriously!” He elbows Brad gently in the ribs. “Just for five minutes! Or- or open the door and let me peek in for a second. Please?”

Brad thinks for a second, and then lets out a sigh of feigned exasperation. “Fine. Alright. We can go.” His annoyance is all for show - to make those around him laugh, yes, but more so to hide his own trepidation. Part of him knows this is a bad idea, knows he’ll just get upset the way he always does sitting in his old room every year, running his hand over the tattered duvet on his bed. Another part of him aches to let David in, to let David know  _ all _ of him, good and bad. He struggles with that. But he knows this could be a step in the right direction. 

David follows Brad up the staircase, running his hand along the banister, eyes darting from Brad ahead of him to the dozens of family photos lining the opposite wall and back again. As David approaches the top of the staircase, Brad opens a door off of the main hallway. He waits for David to walk in before closing the door behind them gently, sealing them off in their own private, quiet bubble. Away from the symphony of voices and laughter coming from downstairs. Away from the rest of the world. It’s a tiny room, cluttered with personal possessions, relics from a past that Brad typically won’t talk about until he has a few drinks in him. David knows all too well that it’s difficult for Brad to be vulnerable like this. Brad doesn’t know why he relented. He doesn’t know what he wants. Never does. 

“Thank you for inviting me here. As your… as your date - whatever. Seriously, Brad. It means a lot.” There’s a beat as David studies Brad for a reaction before noticing a poster on the far wall, and he begins to make his way toward it. Brad turns to watch him. 

“Hey, Talking Heads! You know, my friend growing up had this same poster,” he turns back to Brad, smiling. Brad takes a seat near the headboard of the bed and puts his hands in his lap, a meager smile across his face. David thinks he’s never seen Brad look quite so tiny. Sure, Brad looked pretty small the time that he had the flu and David made a trip to his house to cook him dinner. Even smaller answering the door on all the late nights when he asks David to come over and assure him that everything is alright. Maybe the smallest after spending the night: when Brad’s still sleepy and entwined in the sheets and the just-risen sun bathes his skin in a soft warm glow and his curls fall across his forehead and his hands are balled up into fists and his lips are gently parted and he’s just so beautiful and and and...

But now a pensive look clouds Brad’s face as he watches David, and David can’t quite figure out what’s going on in Brad’s brain. Maybe it’s the same thing that’s sticking to the back of David’s mind. Feels like it’s been sticking there for as long as he can remember, since he was a teenager sitting in his own tiny bedroom longing for what he imagined all the other kids his age got to experience - that panicked, naive, racing-heart confession of young love, maybe sitting on the roof under the stars, maybe ducking under the bleachers between class periods, maybe meeting in a backyard under the guise of night, maybe sitting alone in a bedroom just like this, feeling scared and nearly invincible.

Brad knows that feeling. Fifteen years old, sitting on his bed, a friend from school over to listen to records and eat ice cream sandwiches. He’s scared of the way he feels, although he can’t quite place  _ what _ it is he’s feeling. Again, now seventeen, the same friend is laid out on his floor comparing homework answers while they get tipsy on a Friday night. The friend makes a joke, and Brad laughs, despite the fact that he was too lost in thought to hear it. He’s figured it all out by now. He keeps his mouth shut with no intention of ever opening it. He knows that love doesn’t last - everyone he loves leaves eventually. His father taught him that. A year later, before leaving for college, Brad gets too drunk. He’s with his friend again. His best and only friend. He opens his mouth. 

They never speak again, and Brad learns to cover up a black eye with a bit of his sister’s makeup and a slight downward tilt of the chin. 

Now, David grabs an old yearbook off of a high shelf and moves to sit next to him on the bed. He sits back far enough that he can swing his feet the way he does when he sits on Brad’s kitchen counter, wine drunk, on the occasional Friday night. 

“David, I don’t-”

“Come on, I want to see what you looked like in high school! You know, see if we would’ve been friends.” A gentle nudge. Brad sighs in resignation. David gives him a quick grin and the spine of the yearbook cracks as he opens it. He traces his fingers across the pages, scanning for a young Brad. Rather than assisting him in his search, Brad studies David seated so close to him - noting his long downcast eyelashes, the array of freckles littering his whole face, the creases at his eyes and the lines across his forehead. Brad’s heart has been pounding against his rib cage, begging to leap out of his chest, since he first closed the door. He wonders if, through the still and quiet of the room, David can hear the thump-thump-thump that says _ I know I love you, but I would die before I admit it.  _

Still flipping through pages, David asks, “Are you- are you in here? I didn’t see a picture.”

“No.” 

“Why not?” David turns to look at him. Brad turns his head away to look at the ground, a poor attempt at aloofness. Usually he’s better at this. His mask is slipping.

“Didn’t want to be. Didn’t care.” 

A pause. Then, quietly, carefully:

“...Oh. That’s alright.” Brad hears the spine crack again as David closes the book, and a soft  _ thud  _ as it’s discarded next to him on the bed. 

Feet still swinging, David turns his head from Brad to quietly observe the rest of the room. _ Oh, I remember reading that book in the fourth grade! Oh, has he always liked Rubix Cubes? _

Heart still pounding, Brad watches David smile to himself as he notices each trinket, each trophy. _ I love you I love you I love you and I need you to love me back. _

When this started, when he and David first got together, Brad told himself he would keep his mouth shut. Told himself it wasn’t worth the risk of ruining what they have. Things have been good - they care for each other, take care of each other, and they leave certain things unspoken. Unlabelled. An implicit agreement that they don’t have to define things or express how they truly feel - exactly how he likes it, exactly how he’s liked it since… Since... Well. Every day since adolescence Brad has silently thanked his father for the only good thing he’s ever done - for teaching him to build up walls, push people away, protect himself. From rejection. From hurt. From heartbreak. The one time he thought he could let someone in he ended up bruised and bloodied inside and out - an attempt at breaking down his walls only caused him to build them back up tenfold. But now, more than the rejection and hurt, Brad fears the distance; if his silence somehow costs him this, if it costs him David- 

Tonight he curses his father for keeping him from the one thing that has ever mattered to him this much. He curses himself. He won’t tell David how he feels. He can’t. His heartbeat is in his ears as he chokes on the words. 

Thump.

_ I love you _ . 

Thump. __

_ You make me feel like a person again _ .  _ A whole person. _

Thump. 

_ Do you hear how loudly I love you? Do you hear my body screaming out for you against every instinct I have? Do you know that I wish I could live in the moments that we are alone together?  _

Thump. 

_ There is no one else but you. No one. No one.  _

He says nothing. His gaze drifts to David’s hands fidgeting in his lap, as they usually do when left unoccupied. Seeking comfort, Brad quietly slips his hand into David’s - if he can’t bring himself to speak his mind, he supposes this is the next best thing. 

“You’re so quiet. Something’s wrong.” David has gotten good at reading Brad - he knows that when Brad gets as quiet as this, it usually means he’s lost in thought. Best to get him out of his own head. Best to talk about it.

Brad clenches and unclenches his jaw and then swallows, his mouth feeling like it’s been filled with sand. 

“No.”

“Will you talk to me? Tell me what you’re thinking about? Please.”

“I’m fine.” Brad steels himself against David’s pleading gaze. It always gets to him, eventually.

“I know it’s not easy for you and we don’t have to talk about  _ everything.  _ But I like when you talk to me, even if it’s just a little bit. I don’t want you to keep it all bottled up. It’s not healthy.”

Brad’s defenses crumble with a sigh.  _ Record time. _

“What do you want me to say? David, I- I can’t-” A deep breath through his nose as he gathers his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I wish I could talk about things the way you do. Honestly. I wish I wasn’t like this.” He furrows his brows and turns to the man next to him, seeking any kind of reassurance. David’s sympathetic expression and kind eyes gently urge Brad to continue. “Being back here - it’s always nice, obviously, seeing my family - but being here… It just makes me think about things that I’d rather not think about. You know.” 

“Your dad.”

“Well… Yeah.” Deep breath. “But everything else, too.”

“Like...?” 

A long pause.

“I hated school. I didn’t have a lot of friends... I guess that’s when I started pushing most people away. I was so lonely. And being back in my old room makes me think about everything that I missed out on. Everything that happened that I  _ wish _ I had missed out on. It’s so stupid. I know that. I-” 

“It’s not stupid.”

“David,” he’s half-pleading, half-demanding that David doesn’t try to make him feel better. 

“No. It’s not stupid. I... I missed out on a lot as a kid, too. And as a teenager. And as a young adult-- Look. My point here is that it doesn’t matter. Well, maybe it does matter, but...” David searches for the words, speaking slower now, more deliberately. There’s a certain gravity to his words. “But you’re you. And you don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Brad doesn’t really know what David means by this. Maybe David means a lot of different things. Maybe Brad doesn’t really want to know. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Brad-”

“Please.” He looks David in his eyes. He’s  _ really  _ pleading this time. 

“Okay. Hey. Hey.” David uses his free hand to adjust one of Brad’s curls that wasn’t really out of place to begin with - a habit he’s picked up just for moments like this, moments when he knows Brad needs it most. He watches Brad’s expression carefully for a moment. “Why don’t we go back downstairs so I can meet the rest of your family. Okay?”

“Sure.” 

They stand up to leave, and David starts to the door. His hand reaches the doorknob. From behind him, the meek voice of a man who typically tries his best to be strong:

“Thank you.”

David turns to look at Brad, unsure of what to do. It’s so hard to see him this way, not knowing how to deal with all of this residual pain but so obviously afraid to ask for help. They stand there for a moment, looking at each other and thinking, before Brad finally closes the distance between the two of them with a few strides. He takes David’s face in his hands and kisses him gently, once on the cheek, once on the forehead, once on the nose, looking David in the eyes between each one. One more gentle kiss, this time on the mouth, and then Brad buries his head in the crook of David’s neck as David runs a hand through Brad’s dark soft curls - the other hand soothes circles into Brad’s back. He is careful, careful - he always is when Brad is fragile like this, when he is so terribly close to shattering completely. They separate after a few long moments, David’s arm lingering around Brad’s waist before he takes his hand to lead him back downstairs. 

...

“I’m Kalina. So nice to finally meet you, David.”

“And I’m Basia. We’re so glad that you made it! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

David exchanges handshakes with each of Brad’s two sisters as the four of them crowd a corner of the family room. They’re tall and beautiful, sharing Brad’s most distinct features - and apparently his taste in expensive jewel toned clothing, as well. Before David can return the pleasantries, a tiny voice from across the room draws their attention. 

“Uncle Brad! Uncle Brad!” A girl of maybe four or five years runs through their circle, colliding with Brad’s leg and bouncing off of him with a giggle.

“My myszka!” Brad’s eyes light up at the sight of her. He kneels down and pulls his niece into a tight hug, then holds her at arm's length, still at her eye level. “How are you doing? Not causing too much trouble, I hope.”

“Nope! Look, I got a wiggly tooth. And I got to paint my nails ‘cause Mommy said I could ‘cause it’s Christmas. And I have to show you something.” She tugs at his hand, trying to drag him away.

“Okay! Okay,” Brad laughs, shrugging and smiling at David as he stands again. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” He places his hand on David’s arm for a second.

David watches as the little girl pulls Brad by the hand over to the refrigerator in the adjoining kitchen, pointing at a drawing done in crayon secured to the door by a magnet. Brad is beaming, looking back and forth between the drawing and his niece.  _ You drew this?  _ David watches Brad ask her.  _ That’s incredible!  _

“So what do you do around the office, David?” Kalina asks. David begins to turn back towards their small circle, nearly unable to take his eyes off of Brad. “He’s mentioned that you’re the executive producer, but I can’t  _ imagine  _ what that must entail.” She sounds genuinely interested.

“Oh, yeah. It’s… It’s alright,” David is only half focused on the conversation, mind occupied by this version of Brad: so happy, so excited. “Um. So he talks about me, huh? I- I mean, he’s mentioned me?” 

The sisters exchange a knowing glance before Kalina leans forward, voice low, grinning. 

“Don’t tell him I told you this, okay? Don’t tell him I said anything, but he talks about you a lot, David. We’ll ask him, ‘Hey Brad, how’s work?’ and he’ll just tell us about something you did that day. An idea you had in a meeting. Some silly bet you two had going that one week. I call him every once in awhile just to catch up and that’s always how it goes. And you know what? It makes me so happy that you make him happy. Because if his big sisters can’t be out there looking out for him, we know David’s got him.”

“Yeah. Heh. Yeah. I got him.” David smiles down at his shoes while the sisters smile at each other, noticing where David’s attention still lies.

“Isn’t he just so sweet to her? That’s my daughter, by the way, the little one. Katie. He calls her his myszka. Little mouse.” Basia nods towards the kitchen. David offers a small but sincere smile. “I’m going to tell you something that Brad would never tell anyone. When Katie was about a year old, her dad left… It was hard. I was angry. But Brad let us live with him for a few months while I looked for a job. Cooked for us, helped take care of her while I was going to interview after interview... I know that there’s so much more to himself than he shows to the world, and I wish he wasn’t such a private person sometimes. He has a really good heart. Always has. But it seems like you already know that.” She chews her lip as she gives David a smile, eyes expectant as if waiting for him to confirm something that the sisters already know, something that they already see. 

They see it in the way that Brad’s gaze lingers on David even after David has finished speaking like he’s hanging onto every last word, the way that David looks to Brad each time someone tells a joke so he can be the first to see Brad’s smile. It’s obvious - the way that love always is. 

…

After dinner, when all of the children have fallen asleep on the laps of their parents and the conversation has grown pleasantly subdued, Brad and David make the rounds saying their hushed goodbyes, receiving plenty of hugs and handshakes and assurance that David is more than welcome in any of their homes “anytime”. 

Brad’s mother follows them to the door, arms piled high with containers of food.

“David, you take these. I want to keep you well fed. It warms a mother’s heart knowing she can keep somebody fed and happy.” She is too serious in an endearing way that makes Brad and David laugh a little bit. She hands David the containers before he’s ready to take them from her, so he has to do this awkward balancing act that makes Brad smile involuntarily. 

“Oh,” she clutches her necklace and draws her eyebrows close together. “It was so wonderful to meet you, sweet boy. Promise me you’ll come back to visit. Everyone here loved you so much. And bring some more of those cookies next time!” She reaches up to his face, patting him on both cheeks. Turning to Brad, she tells him, sternly:

“Promise me you’ll bring him back soon. And you be nice to him! I know how you get when you’re in one of your moods.”

“Mom. I’m forty-”

“Don’t worry,” David laughs. “He’s always nice to me.”

“Well, you give me a call if he gives you any trouble. I’ll put him in his place.”

“ _ Mom _ .”

“Alright, alright. You two need to get going. You have a bit of a drive ahead of you, I suppose... Well,” she steps back now, taking in the sight of both of them, together, and drawing in a deep breath. She smiles. “Drive safely. I love you. Both of you boys. I love you.” She looks at them for another short moment, trying to let her words sink in - words that she knew David needed to hear from a mother the moment she met him.

The drive home is quiet, but the good kind of quiet. Comfortable. Old Christmas music plays softly from the radio. Aside from David occasionally mentioning how much he enjoyed meeting everyone, how good the food was, how sweet Brad’s sisters were, he’s silent. Every time Brad glances over at him, David’s grinning to himself, and that makes Brad smile. 

  
...  
  
  


Epilogue - The next evening

“Wine tonight? Cabernet, Merlot… What are you thinking?” Brad runs his fingers across the bottles, surveying the liquor cabinet that he always keeps stocked. 

“Whatever you want.” David smiles. He doesn’t care. He’s happy regardless, because he’s here, with Brad. 

“Alright.” With slender fingers, Brad chooses a bottle and deftly tosses it from one hand to the other. As he pours them each a glass, David takes the Tupperware of reheated food out of the microwave and portions it onto plates. 

“You know, this is nice. I like this, Brad. I… I like us.” Wordlessly, Brad bumps his shoulder against David’s.  _ Me too _ . 

The fireplace has been keeping them warm for a couple hours, now, and the whole house is softly lit by candles. It’s cozy. Domestic. 

David carries their plates to the table as Brad sets the wine glasses down. David hands a plate to Brad as they sit. 

“Thank you, I love you. Ah, fuck.” Brad leans back and runs a hand through his hair, looking everywhere except at the man across from him. A small smile spreads across David’s face. He’ll tease Brad about this later. He’s just happy that he finally got to hear Brad say it. 

“It’s okay. I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic that i've seriously written and probably the first time i've done any creative writing since i was maybe twelve (??) so i am very nervous and embarrassed about this but i wrote it so i might as well post it i guess . anyways thank you to oj (@gaybradbakshi on twitter) for being the person who put this idea in my brain and jules (@dreamatcrium on twitter) for being my guinea pig i am endlessly appreciative of the both of you i love you so much and also anyone who is reading this i love u


End file.
